


perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition

by kisahawklin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Bunker Sex, Hair Washing, Let's call it an AU where Gadreel didn't kill Kevin for absolutely no reason at all, M/M, Set in season 10 but we're just gonna say Gadreel isn't an issue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 04:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13205658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/pseuds/kisahawklin
Summary: Sam comes home from a hunt injured and Kevin finds him in the bathroom, dirty and exhausted.





	perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [omens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omens/gifts).



> Thanks to omens for putting a prompt that got me out of my writing slump. Thanks to saekhwa for cheerleading like the champ she is. Thanks to Kevin and Sam for being soft and wonderful and _this_. This was a true delight to write and may be my favorite piece of the year.

It happens more than Kevin cares to think about. The showers in the bunker are locker room style, so he and the Winchesters shower together on occasion. That's fine. He's not insecure. He's a teenager, they're grown men. That's how they're supposed to look. They probably looked like him when they were teenagers.

Well, probably not, but Kevin can hope. And Sam was a nerd.

But that's not even the thing, he's off track again. Being distracted happens more around the Winchesters than it ever did when he was living at home. They're not great for his concentration.

The point is, he walks in on them patching themselves or each other up after hunts a lot. Things are hairy between them right now, so it's usually just one of them trying to do their own stitches or scrub goo out of uncomfortable places, but it happens a lot and Kevin doesn't offer to help because everybody's naked and that's not supposed to be weird except for how it is and he cannot make it any weirder. Besides, it's not like he knows how to stitch someone up anyway.

But now Sam's here alone, dirty and bloody and just finished stitching up a gash on his stomach. He looks tired. He's on one of the wooden benches they bought for the shower room specifically because sometimes the Winchesters are too tired to stand up long enough to get clean – and if that doesn't tell him everything he needs to know about them and then some, there is nothing that will.

Sam, though, back to Sam. He's naked, curled up in a way that makes him look utterly exhausted. He doesn't really know what happened between Sam and Dean but it makes Dean mad all the time (except when he gives Sam that _look_ that's sorrow and determination and hurt and regret all in one) and it makes Sam frustrated all the time (except when he gives Dean that look of white hot rage that makes Kevin just a little scared), and it wears them both out.

"Hey," he says, because Sam hasn't seen him yet and he doesn't want to scare the guy. Usually he's aware enough to hear the door opening and drifting shut, but if he's hurt and tired, maybe not.

Sam grunts in response. So apparently he did hear Kevin, he just doesn't have enough energy to sit up.

Kevin hesitates. He's used to various stages of exhaustion from the Winchesters, particularly Sam, but something about his posture – or lack of posture, really – suggests Sam is not just exhausted but that he's disheartened. Something about the curve of his shoulders reads "hopeless." He tries to be brave. He's not good at it, mostly, but he tries. So he sucks in a breath, girds his loins, and says, "Are you okay?"

Sam grunts again, an utterly indifferent sound. 

Kevin looks Sam over while he undresses. He's not _that_ dirty. He'd have to have cleaned up enough to be able to do the stitches, but he's still got blood and dirt on him, and his hair is filthy. Kevin has his doubts about Sam being able to get it clean before he falls asleep right there on the bench. 

The spray nozzle is on the floor next to Sam. It's a useful piece of equipment – probably the first thing the Winchesters installed when they moved in. From Kevin's research in the library, the Men of Letters weren't the type to need conveniences for hunting injuries. 

Kevin takes a deep breath, grabs his shampoo and conditioner, and walks over to Sam's shower tree. "Here," he says, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam's cold, which goes to show he's definitely exhausted. Kevin pulls a little, eventually standing directly behind Sam and yanking on both his shoulders. "Let me help you," he says. 

Sam moans, but Kevin has reached his limit. His fuse is a lot shorter than it used to be, thanks to the Winchesters. "Sam Winchester, lie down on this bench _right now_. I'm going to wash your hair and then we're going to get you to bed."

That gets Sam's attention. He glances over his shoulder at Kevin and gives him a little nod and half smile, unfolding his long frame, twisting sideways a half-turn and stretching his legs out on either side of the bench as he unfurls down it. Kevin swallows hard. There's something almost pornographic about the fluid way Sam moves.

His head is tipped back, though, eyes closed, and Kevin kneels at the head of the bench, picking up the spray nozzle and testing the water temperature before raising it to Sam's hair. He uses the conditioner first – the long hair is tangled up in spots, and he doesn't want to tug too hard because Sam can probably kill him in ten different ways without even sitting up. He carefully threads his fingers through Sam's hair under the water, letting the big chunks of whatever gunk is in there fall out before trying to untangle the knots. 

The gristle and grit comes out with a little TLC, and Kevin hands the nozzle to Sam, thinking maybe he'll want to warm up, spray a little on himself, but he just holds it, despite the fact that Kevin can see goose pimples on his chest and arms. 

The shampoo smells like mangoes. Kevin threw a fit one day, something about missing his mom (all his fits are about missing his mom), and Sam came to his room to talk to him about it. He told Sam a lot of stupid things, about how his mom made him grilled cheese and tomato soup when he was upset or how she got him mango-scented shampoo because he smelled it once in the store and insisted she buy it. 

The next day, there was new shampoo on his dresser and Sam made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch. Kevin has always appreciated how Sam makes such an effort, especially about the little things. He's never forgotten that Kevin likes grape soda the best, either, and they are always stocked. The beer occasionally runs out (he thinks maybe Dean drinks them faster than Sam can anticipate) but the grape soda never does.

So anyway, the mango shampoo makes him smile and it makes him smile even bigger when he realizes he is returning Sam's kindness with a gift Sam gave him. He pours a huge dollop into the cup of his palm and starts to work it in to Sam's hair, massaging Sam's scalp like the girls at the salon he went to with his mom always did. He remembers loving that sensation, and it's nice to do it to someone else. He hopes Sam enjoys it as much as he did.

A glance down Sam's body tells him Sam enjoys it at least that much and apparently in a very different way than Kevin, because he's getting hard. Kevin swallows again, really wishing he wasn't naked for this. 

Sam's never been shy in the showers; he likes to jack off in there and he doesn't get embarrassed if someone comes in. He'll stop, but it's not possible to lose a hard-on in the ten seconds between hearing the door to the shower room squeak and someone rounding the corner to the main area.

Dean always turned his back if he got caught, and Kevin left right away because clearly it bothered Dean – his skin gets blushy pink, more than can be explained by the hot water – and obviously Kevin didn't want to make it worse than it already was.

Sam though, he just stopped jacking off and went back to his shower, actually looking at Kevin and smiling. And if Sam wasn't going to make it awkward, Kevin wasn't going to make it awkward, so he just joined Sam in the shower and they did their thing. Well, not _that_ thing, though Kevin's occasionally wondered if that's something he might be able to do with Sam. Not _with_ Sam, with Sam, just… in the same room. Like you sometimes watch porn with other guys. Or at least Kevin's heard that's a thing that happens and is totally normal and not weird at all.

All the thoughts of porn have him distracted, and he's honestly lathered as much as humanly possible, so he reaches for the sprayer and lowers it to Sam's face, aiming it close to his hairline so the spray just sheets through his hair, the water doing the massaging now. 

Sam hums happily and Kevin bites his lip; Sam's still half-hard and Kevin's not sure how to deal with that, or the fact that he can feel stirrings of his dick own in response. He's on his knees, so at least there's no way Sam could see, though he has a feeling Sam wouldn't mind, considering how unabashed he is about his own erections. Still, kinda uncomfortable.

Kevin has always liked Sam's hair, so he can't help finger-combing it to make sure all the suds are out, and the reaction he gets from Sam is pure beauty. His eyes close, his mouth drops open and he sighs out a breath that's a whisper away from being a moan. Kevin runs his fingers through Sam's hair again and Sam's mouth opens wider, and he's not sure how he's supposed to control his dick when Sam looks better than a lot of the porn Kevin's seen. 

There's no way he's going to stop running his fingers through Sam hair at this point, so he keeps doing it, his heart in his throat, his breath coming in butterfly gasps as he wonders what happens next, as he hovers on the edge of something that's as terrifying as it is tantalizing.

He keeps the water pouring over Sam's hair, his fingers running through it three times, four, five, six… After a full minute of watching Sam's mouth, Kevin shakes himself free and realizes he has to stop. If Sam's not going to say anything, Kevin has to –

The room shifts around him like a Hitchcock movie as Kevin's peripheral vision kicks in and he sees Sam reach for his dick. His whole body is tense and he's using both hands – one circling his dick at the base, with his fingers cupped around his balls, and the other stroking his dick, firmly but slowly. Almost leisurely, Kevin would guess, except for the amount of pressure he's applying.

Kevin's exhales turn into little huffs of air going out, like exclamation points on top of everything he's feeling. He can't feel his inhales though, and he suddenly worries he's going to pass out from hyperventilating. 

Maybe Sam's just an exhibitionist, and this is just… him being okay with Kevin watching. Kevin is okay with watching, he is super okay, he's never been more okay with literally anything in his life, but he's also wondering if he can do more than touch Sam's hair. He'll stay here, stroking Sam's hair and watching him jack off until he comes, oh God, please let that happen, but… is there more? Could he be more bold, ask for something, or make a move? Try to kiss Sam's open mouth, or put a hand over Sam's on his dick?

Sweet fumbling sex with Channing aside, Kevin's never done anything like this. He and his study buddy Mustafa messed around a little after swim team once in the showers, but it was funny and they were laughing the whole time, and it definitely was nothing like this. 

On top of being singularly beautiful, it feels dangerous. He's on a tightrope here, high in the air, and while he thinks maybe Sam would catch him if he fell, he can't be sure of that because Sam isn't always there all the time. 

His fingers are on autopilot – he could smooth them through Sam's hair forever – but he has an idea that is dead center between "could be really hot" and "might make Sam kill him" and he takes a couple strokes to think about it because he's turned on and scared in about equal measure and the realization that his need to move this whole situation forward trumps his fear that he might make a mistake takes a second to come together in his mind.

On the next stroke, he tugs Sam's hair a little, right near the scalp. Sam goes with it, lets his head be pulled back, chin tilting in the air and throat long. There's a sound, too, almost a word. A vocable, Kevin's SAT flash cards remind him. A universally understood sound; this one is surprise, or maybe pleasure.

Never has Kevin wanted anything more than he wants to lick Sam's neck _right now_. He swallows and tugs again, and Sam actually _moans_ this time, and oh, shit, yeah, that is definitely Kevin's dick springing to full and complete attention because holy shit he has never caused someone to make that kind of noise before, and he honestly might come because Sam Winchester is moaning at his touch and he's not sure if that's awesome or pathetic.

Kevin's heard the phrase "reckless abandon" before – pretty sure he read it in one of his mom's romance novels – but he had no clue what it really meant. He's never felt the kind of driving need he feels now, to keep Sam moaning and finding the thing that might make Sam feel the way he feels, that building heaviness that he knows leads to coming his brains out, even though it's only taken a couple of minutes before, and this is definitely going to set the record for time spent in actual sexual – or sort-of-sexual – contact with someone before he jizzes himself.

When he tugs Sam's hair this time, he leans down, not sure what he's planning to do but having a vague sense he might try for Sam's neck. Before he can get there, Sam's eyes open and Kevin can feel the pull of Sam's hair as he shifts to the side just a little to look at him. 

Panic sets in where reckless abandon left off, and Kevin's about to start apologizing profusely and hide in his room forever, but Sam picks his head up, his hair sliding out of Kevin's fingers, and kisses Kevin's jaw. It's all he can really reach, and it looks super uncomfortable, and reckless abandon fights its way forward enough that Kevin leaps without looking and turns his head to meet Sam for a kiss.

It's still a little awkward because Spiderman kisses aside, kissing upside down is a technical nightmare. Kevin ends up sucking on Sam's lower lip, which, while not a bad thing, doesn't really reach the bar that's been set with Sam's hair-pulling reaction moans. 

He releases the kiss and grabs Sam's hair just a little roughly, pulling his head back down. Sam closes his eyes again, this time with an "ohhhh" and Kevin's back on track. Kissing will just have to wait until next time. Fuck, he hopes there's a next time.

The harder he pulls on Sam's hair, the faster Sam's hand moves on his dick, and Kevin sets down the sprayer to get both hands in on the action, letting the hair slip over his fingers until he curls them and tugs, pulling Sam's head back further and getting a deep groan for his trouble. 

He pulls a little harder, extending Sam's neck even more, greedily watching his adam's apple bob. The sounds Sam's making are getting sharper and more rhythmic, and Kevin's pretty sure that means Sam's going to come soon. He lets his fingers slip through Sam's hair and digs in to do it again. 

It's the tugging and shifting that work the best, so Kevin shifts his hold to pull Sam's head to the side a little, forcing the tendon on Sam's neck to stand out. If only Kevin had a third hand. Or arms long enough to let him get his mouth comfortably close to Sam's neck.

He concentrates on Sam's pleasure though – he seems very close and nothing seems more important in this moment than making sure Sam comes, making sure Kevin is the one that can bring that about, that can give Sam something _he_ needs, for once. 

He knows there's a speed thing, that sometimes you need more to push you over the edge, so he keeps one hand gripped tightly in Sam's hair, tugging his head back and resisting when Sam tries to move against it, and he strokes the other hand through Sam's hair, pulling it back away from his face and running his fingers along Sam's scalp. Every shift changes the sounds Sam makes, and Kevin thinks maybe he'll write a thesis on that, _Common Sam-sounds during Sexual Intercourse and the Causes Thereof._

He'll never know what it was specifically – maybe just the consistent push and pull of Kevin's hands – but Sam tips over the edge, coming with a soft "oh" sound and a long sigh, but also a tightening up of his body that pulls him taut and brings Kevin along with him because they're attached at the hair, and Kevin grips a little tighter at first, letting go as Sam relaxes back down to the bench, running his fingers through Sam's hair one last time.

"Mmm," Sam says, his eyes still closed. "Thank you."

Kevin's not entirely sure what to say to that. 'You're welcome' seems weird, but 'no problem' is even weirder and then he stumbles on, "Anytime," because yes. He wants to do this again, less accidentally.

Sam smiles, a surprisingly uncomplicated smile for Sam Winchester, and Kevin hopes he hasn't done something one of them will regret later. He's pretty sure he's okay, but Sam has guilt about just about everything in his life, and Kevin would hate to be one more thing piled on top of that emotional mess.

"Come here," Sam says, sitting up suddenly. He's wide awake and his eyes are clear and Kevin would be surprised because he looked like death warmed over about twenty minutes ago, but that's the way the Winchesters are. He's pretty sure they have some sort of X-Men-like healing factor mutation.

Kevin stands, coming around the bench so he's standing in front of Sam. He's still hard and he'd probably be embarrassed about that except for how he's feeling really fucking impressed with himself right now, and also Sam's still naked and right there and Kevin's desperately horny.

He's also feeling reckless, like those terrible romance books, so he leans down, hoping Sam won't feel weird about trying again for that kiss. 

Sam isn't weird, he's soft and responsive and kind of sweet and not at all what Kevin expected, so while it's awesome, it also feels out of place, and Kevin pulls back to see if he's misinterpreted something. 

There's something that's not quite a smile lurking on Sam's face, and he looks up at Kevin with curiosity, and Kevin wants to ask something, clarify what's going on here, but he doesn't know how, or what, or –

"Okay if I take care of that for you?" Sam asks, letting his eyes drop to Kevin's dick and come back up.

Kevin can feel himself blush at the suggestion, his skin heating up like Sam turned the shower room into a sauna. He nods, head bobbling a little, because words have deserted him, and he's not really sure how something like this happens to someone like him.

"Good." 

Sam hums, reaching his impossibly long arms out and pulling Kevin toward him, his warm hands a firm guide on Kevin's lower back. When Kevin's dick is front and center and well into Sam's personal space, Sam looks up at him, shifting one of his hands to bring Kevin's face down to his for a kiss. It's short, but less sweet than the last one, and that was way more of what Kevin was expecting from their first kiss. So, suddenly Kevin's hard as hell again, and when Sam releases his face and pulls him forward by his ass, opening his mouth and just relentlessly taking Kevin's entire dick into his mouth, Kevin's not sure he hasn't gone blind from the searing hotness.

He's also pretty sure he's going to come in under thirty seconds, which might be embarrassing if he wasn't still technically a teenager getting blown by Sam fucking Winchester, who is probably the hottest person Kevin has known or ever will know.

Sam's hands curl around his hips and Kevin's breath deserts him for the millionth time in the last half an hour, so he ekes in breaths when he can convince his lungs to work, watching Sam's mouth move up and down his dick. It feels nice, hell it feels _fantastic_ , but it's the visual, slowed down because adrenaline means he'll be able to recall this moment with perfect slow-motion clarity for the rest of his life, something Kevin intends to thank God for when they finally meet someday, that is what has really scrambled his brain. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined Sam's mouth on his dick but now he will never forget it.

"Sam," Kevin says, not even intending to but he's lost control of his body, he's definitely not able to make it do anything he wants.

Sam smiles around his dick, oh, fuck, what the hell, and takes one hand off Kevin's hip to grab his hand instead, which had been hanging stupidly at his side because Kevin's not in control right this second. He moves it to his hair, and that's just the end of everything because Kevin pulls and Sam groans and Kevin comes harder than he thought possible. He sees honest to God stars behind his eyes.

He can finally breathe, though, and it's like a freight train running through his chest, heaving like he's run the mile and shit, Sam's mouth is fucking feverishly hot, and his tongue is doing something…

Kevin looks down and Sam's slowly releasing his dick, doing something tricky with his tongue, and when it finally pulls free, Sam swallows, his adam's apple bouncing obscenely. Kevin might die, right here in the bunker shower room.

"Wow," Kevin says, though man, he wishes he had said "thank you" the way Sam had, because he is absolutely grateful for this contribution to his sexual biography. 

Sam chuckles, like he heard the thank you anyway, and says, "Good," because of course that's what Sam would say. 

Kevin leans down to kiss Sam again, because he has a feeling he won't really be able to convey what he's feeling in words, and he's back to wondering if this is a one shot or if there might be a next time, and it feels like whether or not Sam lets Kevin kiss him will tell him something.

It's sweet and soft like the first time, which breaks Kevin's heart a little because it doesn't tell him anything except what he already knew, that Sam is kind and thoughtful and who knows what this even was, maybe Sam doesn't even know. Kevin debates crawling onto Sam's lap, pulling his hair again, seeing if he can capture whatever this is and save it for later, like a firefly in a jar.

The moment passes though, and Sam stands, leaning down to pick up the spray nozzle and put it back in the bracket on the shower tree, turning his face into it for a long moment.

He's still a little dirty and bloody, and Kevin's about to grab the soap to help, but Sam turns on two more of the shower heads, and suddenly Kevin's sputtering and pushing his hair out of his eyes. He spits water at Sam and the dork just grins and turns around, grabbing Kevin's conditioner and smoothing it through his hair.

The surrealness ebbs as they finish their showers, Kevin stupidly wishing he had the courage to offer to soap Sam up or just put himself in front of Sam and see what might happen. He's afraid though. Sam gave him so much today, who is he to ask for any more?

He's been standing under the spray, brooding, for at least five minutes and Sam's finished, sparkly clean and minty fresh. Kevin sighs, closing his eyes and putting his face under the spray until he hears the squeak of the faucet that means Sam's turned off his showerhead.

"Don't overthink it," Sam says helpfully, putting his warm hands on Kevin's shoulders and turning him around, pushing him forward just a little so the water is pounding between his shoulder blades instead of the back of his skull. "It's my turn."

The sound of the shampoo bottle clicking open makes Sam's intentions clear, and Kevin is exhausted just riding this rollercoaster; how the hell is Sam still on his feet after the day he had? 

Still, Kevin's not complaining. He tilts his head back and lets Sam lather up his hair, gently rinsing it out and doing it a second time, like the actual instructions on the shampoo bottle. He's never shampooed his hair twice in his life. Maybe that's the secret to Sam's super-shiny hair. 

There's nothing sexual to this at all; apparently Kevin just hit on one of Sam's kinks and now Sam is returning the favor in a completely non-sexual way. No, no, he returned the favor with the blowjob, so this is… what is this? Comfort? A nice way of saying it'll never happen again? The rollercoaster goes over another hill, leaving Kevin's stomach in his throat as he tries to figure out whatever the hell this is and what he might want it to be. And then there's trying to figure out what Sam might want it to be.

"Don't overthink it," Sam says again, conditioner this time, his hand cupping Kevin's skull as he threads the silky stuff into Kevin's hair. Kevin sighs and enjoys it, relaxing under the hot water and thinking maybe he might take a nap, wondering if this pleasant whateverness extends to curling up next to Sam on his bed, resting his head on Sam's chest or being the little spoon or just curling up and being held to Sam's arms. Kevin misses hugs. He would have never guessed that of all the things he might long for most from his previous life, it'd be casual touch from his family and friends.

The water turns off with another squeak and Kevin opens his eyes and brushes his hair back. He didn't soap up but it's not like he gets that dirty just hanging around the bunker, trying to read the stupid angel tablet. He heads over to the bench to pick up his towel, riffling it through his hair for a second before wiping down and getting dressed. 

It's not until Sam passes him, still naked and dripping, and carrying his pile of filthy blood-stained clothes, that he realizes Sam must have come straight to the shower room and not brought a towel. "Wait," he says, grabbing for Sam's arm. "Here, you can at least not leave a water trail."

He wipes down Sam's back – and there is a _lot_ of the back of Sam, then up his legs. Sam smiles and sets down the pile of clothes on the bench, giving Kevin the "go ahead" arm spread. Kevin can't help his tight little grin, and he brusquely dries Sam off, including one self-indulgent swipe down the front of his torso, carefully avoiding the new stitches. He hands over the towel and cuts his eyes up to Sam's hair. Sam gets the messages and rubs it a couple of times, leaving it sticking up in ways that Kevin can't help laughing at.

"Come on," he says, grabbing the towel out of Sam's hands. They file out of the shower room, Sam surprisingly steady on his feet, and stop briefly in the laundry room so Sam can drop off his filthy clothes, and then on down the hallway to the sleeping rooms. 

Kevin watches Sam glance into Dean's empty room, taking the time to appreciate the fact that Sam's still naked and Dean's not here and, if the tense set of Sam's shoulders means what he thinks it means, Dean won't be home for hours. Possibly days.

All of them have bedrooms in different hallways. Dean in particular likes his privacy, so he'd walked Kevin to the furthest hallway of bunkrooms and told him to pick one. Dean's room is closest to the garage. Sam's closest to the armory. Kevin's is close to nothing. 

There's a turn just past Dean's room that could be where they part ways, or where Kevin pushes his luck, because why not? He's on a roll. They get to the crossroads and stop. Kevin thought maybe his internal organs might stay where they belonged after everything in the showers, but no, there's apparently still room for them to rearrange themselves. Violently. He sucks in a shaky breath and decides to be the forward one for once. "Maybe someone should stay with you tonight. You're injured."

Well. Being forward doesn't necessarily mean being completely honest. Besides, Sam's smile makes it obvious he knows what Kevin's trying to do, and shit – there go his internal organs again because Sam's about to tell him this isn't a good idea and Kevin's too young (not too young to be a prophet though, never too young for _that_ ) and it's not even like he was fishing for more sex (well, maybe tomorrow, but that's beside the point), he just wants to be warm and held and to touch Sam's skin when he's got explicit permission and some time to spare. 

"Listen, Kevin, can I just be clear about something?"

Kevin's heart drops. Here it is, Sam's going to tell him he's too young, he doesn't know what he wants, Sam's no good for him. He sighs. "Whatever," he says, turning around to head to his room.

"No, wait," Sam says, putting a hand on Kevin's shoulder. Kevin stops. Sam could force him to stop if he wanted to – he's crazy strong – but Kevin doesn't stop because of that. He stops because he can't help the spark of hope that just won't die.

"Yeah?" he asks, not turning around because Sam's face will show him one way or another, and he's still holding on to that tiny piece of hope.

"It'd help if you could stand looking at me," Sam says, and Kevin can hear the smile in his voice. That's the nice thing about Sam. Even if he lets you down, he does it nicely, makes sure you're okay and he still takes care of you.

Kevin turns around, remembering a second too late that Sam's still fucking _naked_ and it's not like he can control the way he looks Sam up and down automatically because naked dude, _right there_ , what else is he supposed to do?

Sam chuckles. "Well, that answers part of my question, I guess. I just…" He swallows, and his soft smile gets supplanted by doubt and concern, an expression Kevin's way more used to than a smile. The rollercoaster his organs are on takes another loop-di-loop. 

"I just need to know, for sure, like, with words and everything. I know the drill, man. You're in a crazy situation. You don't get to see literally anyone else in the world. You're a prophet of the lord. I want you to be okay with this despite the fact that there's no way it can't be fucked up. You still have a choice here."

He's dumbstruck. Nowhere in there did Sam even reference his age or inexperience. He didn't try to do something for Kevin's own good or try to take away his choice. Hell, even if Kevin had the whole world available to him, why would he ever choose anyone but Sam?

"If one of my choices is cuddling in bed with you all night, I choose that one," Kevin says.

Sam's smile returns, this time clear and bright and so different than literally every smile he's seen on Sam's face since he's known the guy, he can't help but stare. What a complicated life Sam leads. Kevin knows the feeling. "If it wasn't before, it is now," Sam says. "Lead the way."

It takes a second or two for it to click that Sam wants him to pick whose bedroom they go to. How is he so unfailingly thoughtful? It makes Kevin think he wants to find a way for Sam to get things he wants more often, without having to ask, without having to probably beg the universe or his brother. Sam deserves to have someone be thoughtful about him, sometimes.

There's no real choice to be made; Kevin's room looks like a pre-teen's and he doesn't want to give Sam any chance to have second thoughts, or voice any ideas he might have about Kevin's non-existent innocence or naïveté. He can't help it; ordering random shit online and sending it to the Winchesters' post office box just to see their faces when he opens Pokemon bean bag chairs and Skyrim posters is one of his raisons d'être.

The hand he casually slips around Sam's waist wanders to his ass as they walk to Sam's room, and Sam's belly laugh is almost as good as the feel of Sam's arms around him as he sleeps, and both of those things pale in comparison to Sam's quiet voice in the morning asking him if he wants breakfast or sex first.

"Sex," he answers sleepily. "Definitely sex."

~~~


End file.
